At the same time, I think putting our fingers in our ears and saying “La-la-la-la-la I’m not listening” with respect to AI is about as practical as being anti-internet in the 1990s. Unless you plan to live in a cabin in the woods next to Walden Pond and isolate yourself from all society, you have to accept living in a world where generative AI is part of our reality.

How do we use AI ethically?

I’m neither a lawyer nor a philosopher, so I’m not about to try parsing out the ethical nuances of AI use. Instead, I’ll point you to a source I trust—The Author’s Guild. This organization has been instrumental in helping writers navigate the process of getting fair compensation for their unlicensed work being used to train LLMs. It has an excellent online guide on the ethical use of AI.

After reading this guide, I feel cautiously optimistic that big corporations may eventually do the right thing and start licensing the work they use to train their models. And if they don’t, at the very least, artists and organizations like the Author’s Guild will take to the courts and maybe force these companies to do it.

Speaking of cases, many people have asked me how I feel about the Anthropic settlement, especially since my book is one of the thousands listed in that database. My response is always the same: It’s not great, but it’s better than nothing. I think authors and artists should be compensated far more than what the settlement has determined. (Let’s be real, $1.5 billion divided among however many thousands of books is not going to yield very much for each writer, nor do I think it’s punitive enough to prevent this kind of nonsense from happening again.)

Still that settlement sets a legal precedent, which is important because it makes it less of an uphill climb for other, similar cases to be decided in the artists’ favor. In my opinion, the legal precedent is in many ways more important than the pecuniary outcome.

I’m also gravely concerned about what AI is doing to people’s brains and to education as a whole. As the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, I’m a firm believer in self-motivation, especially when it comes to learning. But AI is now baked into so many online tools (including search engines) that it’s virtually impossible to do even the most basic research or creative work without coming across some AI generated result.

I suppose this would be tolerable if AI’s accuracy were not so hit or miss, but the way things are right now, it’s garbage in, garbage out. There’s no quality assurance department—aside from our own brains—to help us determine the accuracy of something generated by AI. This means if we’re not careful, we could be using AI generated content and inaccurate information without even realizing it.

What can we do about this?

First and foremost, get informed. AI isn’t going anywhere. Unless we want to live in the dark ages while everyone else is zipping into the future, we need to understand what AI is about and be aware of any controversy that surrounds it. Arm yourself with the right resources. I already mentioned the Author’s Guild, but I also highly recommend Jane Friedman’s paid newsletter The Bottom Line, where she reports on all things publishing-related, including generative AI (when relevant). This is one of those go-to publishing resources I recommend to any author who’s serious about getting published and understanding this industry.

Second, be cautious about what material you feed into AI tools. Make sure you understand all the terms of service. Read the fine print. I know we’ve been conditioned to click “accept all terms” when signing up for a new app or piece of technology. Do not do this with AI. Make sure you understand exactly how that AI tool uses and stores your data. I especially caution you against entering your entire manuscript into an AI chatbot or software. Unless you are absolutely certain that you retain all ownership and that it will not be used to train the model, do not feed it into the AI.

You also need to be aware of who owns the output. It does you no good to input your manuscript into an AI tool if you don’t own whatever material it spits out. Do your due diligence. If you choose to use AI, make sure you understand exactly what happens to both the input and the output.

Third, recognize that AI is deeply flawed and often inaccurate. If you’re going to use it, take the resulting output with a grain of salt and always supplement it with your own research and brainpower. Do not take AI at its word. Make sure to verify all results.

AI’s Impact on Education

Where things have gotten fascinating for me is the impact AI has had on education. My kids are in 6th and 8th grades, and it’s interesting to see how their schools handle the use of technology and are responding to generative AI.

My daughter (the 6th-grader) goes to a school where they’ve gone back to paper-and-pencil exams (remember the good ol’ days of blue books?) because they don’t want the students using AI during tests. My understanding is that they are opting for forms of evaluation where the students do most of the work in class, like presentations and in-class projects. This is all in an effort to prevent the use of AI in cheating.

My son (the 8th-grader) goes to a school that has taken things even a step further. In addition to monitoring the students’ use of technology, they have baked AI awareness into their curriculum. They have an entire subject called Media Literacy, where they focus on identifying generative AI outputs and also learn how to navigate the landscape of social media and the internet responsibly.

If generative AI challenges us to pause and take a step back to more basic forms of learning and testing, that might not be such a bad thing. In fact, I’m not opposed to teachers and administrators limiting the use of screens in the classroom. It’s hard enough to limit screen time at home when all the homework requires logging into a school portal. If more of those screen-related boundaries can be set in the classroom, so much the better. If avoiding AI forces classrooms to go “back to the basics” and my kids end up writing more with pencil in hand, I am all for it.

To AI or Not to AI… Where Do You Stand?

Now I’m curious. Where do you stand on generative AI? Are you opposed to its use for writing but feel it’s okay for things like checking errors? Do you find it useful for brainstorming or marketing purposes? Are you completely against it in all forms (aside from maybe spellcheck)?

I’d like to get a bit of a poll going and if we get some interesting results, I may share it in a subsequent newsletter. (Don’t worry, we’ll only share the aggregate, not individual, results.) Click the link below that best represents your take on AI.

I’m an AI user.

I use AI regularly in many contexts. It saves me tons of time doing tasks I dislike, which allows more time for writing.

I’m AI-cautious.

It may turn out to be useful, but before I can make up my mind about AI, I need more information. I want to wait and see how things develop.

I’m AI-avoidant.

I dislike what AI is doing to our world and our culture. I refuse to use it in any form. If it’s anything more than spellcheck, I avoid it.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: How Do You Feel About AI? appeared first on DIY MFA.

Your writing network is more than just a critique group or a set of writer friends, it encompasses your entire writing life. It includes both fellow writers, who understand what this kooky writing life is all about, and non-writers, who may not get the whole writing thing but can support you in other ways. By casting a wide net, you’ll assemble a network that feeds all aspects of your creative career.

There are four components that you need in your writing network. I like to use the acronym CASA to make sure that all areas of the writing life are present and accounted for. If you don’t already know this about me, my family is Brazilian and Portuguese is my first language. Incidentally, CASA means home in Portuguese, which is significant because your writing network is like a home for your writing soul. CASA represents the four elements of a complete writing community: 

• C is for Critique
• A is for Accountability
• S is for Support
• A is for Advice

Keep in mind, it’s very rare to have one group or person fulfill all four elements. Most writers have different people or groups representing each CASA component. Sometimes a person can fulfill more than one CASA role, but it’s extremely rare to find a one-stop-shop that represents every piece of the CASA puzzle. Let’s take a closer look at each of these components and what they entail.

C is for Critique

Critique is at the center of many writing programs and workshops, including MFAs. This is because one of the best ways to improve our craft and build our skills is to get feedback from fellow writers and readers. Oftentimes we can’t quite tell what’s working in our writing and it’s good to get an outside opinion.

Now, don’t get me wrong, getting feedback on your work is an important part of the writing process, but I think many writers get sucked into critique too early. You need to develop your writing chops first, before you start getting other people’s input.

I once had a writing teacher who said: “Workshops are like driving a van with fourteen backseat drivers.” And there’s something to that. You can get conflicting feedback from different people and sometimes it’s hard to identify the best way forward.

This is why I always recommend that writers wait until they have established their own voice and developed their taste before diving into critique. This way, you can weigh out the input you receive and determine for yourself what to implement and what to let go.

In general, I recommend that writers start adding critique to their writing repertoire once they have begun working on a longer project in earnest (or have completed and revised at least three shorter pieces). At this point in their writing journey, writers have already figured out who they are and what kind of writing they want to focus on, so feedback can be more purposeful. If you haven’t already reached this point in your development as a writer, I would hold off on critique, at least for now.

A is for Accountability

Social accountability is one of the most powerful motivational tools. When we announce our goals publicly, we are more likely to stick to them. We don’t want to look like a slacker by not doing the work, and we don’t want to lose face with our friends if we don’t reach our goals. This “positive peer pressure” makes us knuckle down and it challenges us to do what we need to do to make our goals a reality.

One way to use accountability as part of your writing community is to do what I call “writing in tandem.” This is where writers get together—either in person or via video chat—and write quietly side-by-side.

I used to do this when I first graduated from the MFA program with some of my writing friends. We called ourselves the “Write Nite Ladies” and we’d get together once a week at a coffee shop to write. Our meetups would start with a quick check-in where we’d catch up briefly with each other, then we’d pull out our laptops and start writing. After an hour or so, we’d wrap things up with a little chit-chat and head home.

I know several writers who do the same thing over video chat. They get together on a call and after a short check-in everyone mutes themselves and starts writing. At the end of a one-hour sprint, the writers regroup and share a little about what they worked on during the writing session.

The reason writing in tandem is so effective is that it’s that much harder to check social media or hop on YouTube when you’re working alongside a bunch of other writers. There’s a collective energy that happens when you write in tandem that makes it much more likely for you to focus and stay on task. Whether you choose to write in tandem virtually or in person, this is a great way to build community and use positive peer pressure to keep yourself motivated.

S is for Support

Support for your writing career comes in many forms and from many different sources. It’s tempting to think of support as only coming from fellow writers, but our non-writers friends and family members can be just as crucial sources of support as our writerly “birds of a feather.” For example, a friend or family member might agree to sit with your kids, so you have a few hours to write. Or your spouse might volunteer to do the laundry or cook some meals, so you have some extra writing time. These are all examples of support that non-writers can offer.

At the same time, your writing colleagues can offer support that regular, non-writers may not be able to give. For example, only a writer really understands what it’s like to get your seventy-eighth rejection letter from an agent. And only a writer can truly appreciate how monumental a milestone it is to finish a rough draft. Fellow writers can help you celebrate your wins and can offer a shoulder to lean on when things don’t go well. Yes, our non-writer friends and family might mean well, but they will never have that same level of appreciation for the hard work and dedication that writing requires.

This is why it’s important to have a broad support network, one that includes both writers and non-writers. The writers will lend support around the things that directly relate to your writing career, while non-writers can offer that all-important support that grants you the time and flexibility to get those words on the page. As writers, we need both sources of support in our lives.

A is for Advice

Finally, it’s critical for us to have trusted advisors and mentors who can help us hone our craft and cultivate our careers. While critique is great, and it is certainly valuable to get feedback on your writing from your peers, sometimes you need to bring in an expert. This is where the A for advice comes into play.

When choosing your advisors and mentors, make sure you go to someone who is truly an expert in the area where you need help. There are a lot of sources of information on the internet, and not all of them are of the same high caliber. It’s important to vet your sources of advice carefully. This is why at DIY MFA, we are very deliberate with the resources we share with our audience, and we only recommend people who we know and whose work we trust.

DIY MFA Members HUB

I know I said earlier that it’s very rare for one person or resource to fulfill all four of the CASA elements, but here at DIY MFA, we have one resource that does just that. This is the DIY MFA Members HUB, and it’s a membership community where you can connect with me, my team, and other members of the DIY MFA community.

This community covers all four CASA elements. Our Critique Sessions offer opportunities for you to receive feedback on your work. The Writing Clinics not only give you a chance to write in tandem and focus on specific aspects of the craft, but sharing next steps at the end of the call is a great source of social accountability. The Discussion Calls are an excellent way to get your writing questions answered and also get support from fellow members of the community. Plus, throughout all the resources—on-demand webinars and mini-courses, summit interview archive, and our monthly calls—you have me as the primary source of advice and instruction.

If you’re interested in joining this awesome community, click the link below and you’ll get a more detailed overview of what the HUB is all about. You can also sign up right on that page.

Click here for more information about the HUB.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: Build a Writing Community that Feels Like Home appeared first on DIY MFA.

I share this story because just as knitters have a tendency to flock together, so do writers. Put a couple of writers in a cocktail party full of “muggles” and they will immediately find each other and bond over their love of words. (And yes, I did just refer to non-writers as the non-magic folk in the Harry Potter books.) There’s something about writing that brings people together, like they have a writing radar or “wradar.”

For centuries—maybe millennia—writers have been coming together to share their work. Think of the Grand Cafe in Oslo, the Abbey Theater in Dublin, or the Algonquin Round Table in New York. People talk about writing as a solitary lifestyle, yet for many of us, community is a huge part of the creative process.

So, what makes a writing community effective? And where can writers find this illusive thing called “community”? Here are three components that, in my mind, make a writing community work particularly well.

(1) More Give than Take

Whenever I’m exploring new communities, I look for places where there is an attitude of generosity among the members, a place where people give more than they take. In these types of communities, members offer feedback, share resources, and celebrate each other’s wins without expectation of reciprocation. This spirit of generosity creates a safe space where members can form strong connections with each other and everyone can thrive side-by-side. It sets a positive tone that both appeals to the more gregarious members and also makes even the shyest members more likely to participate.

Communities founded on a principle of generosity tend to be the ones that last the longest. They also attract the best members. After all, no one wants to be in a space where a handful of people monopolize the conversation. When the members are good literary citizens who lead with generosity, the community is most likely to thrive.

(2) Constructive, Not Competitive

Many writing communities are founded around a workshop model where members share their work with each other and offer feedback. In this type of space, constructive critique is key. I’ve seen many a workshop devolve into a cesspool of competitiveness, where members constantly compare themselves to each other. I myself have been in workshops where the leader or teacher believed in “tearing writers down in order to build them back up.” It was a workshop like this that made me stop writing in college and it took me seven years (seven years!) to build up the guts to try again.

While harsh judgements can certainly tear a writer down, empty cheerleading is no better. When writers do nothing but gush about how great a work is, it does nothing to help that writer improve. Instead, it’s important not just to say what works in a piece, but also explain why it works. By explaining the “why” behind the praise or suggestions for improvement, writers can help each other refine their craft.

(3) Broad Range of Genres and Writing Styles

As writers we often are attracted to communities that focus on a specific genre or type of writing. This makes sense on one level, because publishing is itself a genre-focused industry and it can be useful to connect and trade ideas with fellow writers in the same niche.

That said, we also have to acknowledge that writers from different genres bring unique insights to the storytelling process. Romance writers, for example, are phenomenal at marketing and promoting their work. Sci-fi, fantasy and historical fiction writers are amazing at world building. Thriller and mystery writers are fantastic at plot and story structure. And literary fiction writers are excellent at character development.

While it is perfectly fair game to build your community around a specific genre, I want to encourage you to stretch your boundaries and try to connect with writers outside your niche as well. Every genre has its strengths and weaknesses, after all, and when we connect with writers of other genres we can gain new perspectives and improve our craft.

Why do we care about community?

Writing is a solitary exercise. Sure, we can commune with fellow writers, but when it comes to putting words on the page, we do that work on our own. Still, finding community is an essential part of the writing life for a few reasons:

1. Community will give you support. Writing is lonely and “muggles” don’t always understand the ups and downs of the creative process. When we connect with fellow writers, we can see that we’re not struggling in isolation. Yes, writing is a wacky, wild journey, but we are not alone.
2. Community will keep you accountable. Sometimes all it takes is a little bit of peer pressure to get your backside in the chair and make you start churning out words. That has certainly worked for me. For years, I participated in a group that met in a coffee shop and wrote side-by-side. Just seeing my writing buddies focused and working on their books gave me that little extra push to keep pouring words onto the page.
3. Community will motivate you. When we work in solitude, it can feel like we’re never going to reach our goals, but when we see a friend or colleague get published or win an award, it reminds us that success is possible. Sure, you don’t want to be competitive and constantly compare yourself to others, but seeing what’s possible for fellow writers can help you stay motivated, even when your goals feel out of reach.
4. Community will build your network. I hate the word “networking” because it makes me think of “schmoozing” at cocktail parties. (Gross!) Still, there is something to be said about building a network of friends and colleagues and getting to know key players in the industry. The way to do this organically and authentically is through community. When you contribute to a writing community as a good literary citizen, people start to take notice and they’ll want to connect with you. Slowly but surely, your network will grow.

Finding a good community is a key step in any writer’s journey. Still, not all communities are created equal, and it can be hard to find a good one. Here are a few resources to help you get started.

SOCIAL MEDIA: Certain social networks can be great for building community. It used to be that Twitter was where most writers liked to hang out, but ever since the switch to X, I’ve noticed a lot of writers migrating elsewhere. I myself have found that Threads seems to be a very welcoming writing space. Use the BookThreads or WriterThreads hashtags to connect with fellow writers and book lovers. Click here if you want to connect with me on Threads. I haven’t posted much yet; I’m mostly reading other people’s posts and liking/commenting on them.

ASSOCIATIONS: These groups can be a great resource both in terms of helping you develop your knowledge base and for building community. Many writing associations tend to either be genre focused or centered around a particular geographic location. Start by looking in your area to see if there’s a writing association in your city or state. If you can’t find anything local, check out some genre-based associations listed below. Many of them have local chapters.

• AWP: Association of Writers and Writing Programs – mostly for literary fiction but includes a lot of MFA programs, literary magazines, and small presses.
• ITW: International Thriller Writers
• MWA: Mystery Writers of America
• RWA: Romance Writers of America
• SFWA: Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association
• HWA: Horror Writers Association
• SCBWI: Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators (includes books for all age groups, including Young Adult)
• SinC: Sisters In Crime

Of course, this is just a small sampling of writing associations, but it can help you get started.

DIY MFA: Did you know that DIY MFA has its own unique community? Our DIY MFA Members HUB is a close-knit group of writers who are committed to their craft and want to learn and grow together. We meet twice a month via zoom calls, plus the membership offers a ton of resources like access to the entire DIY MFA webinar library and all of our Writer Igniter Summit interviews.

To keep the community tight, we only open the doors to new members a few select times per year. Curious about the HUB and want to learn more? Click here for more info and to get on the waiting list.

There you have it: three components of a good community, along with four reasons why community matters, and three different places you can go to find your birds of a feather. If you haven’t found a writing community yet, I want to encourage you to take the leap. Choose one of the resources I shared above and check it out.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: What to Look For in a Writing Community appeared first on DIY MFA.

Notice how in the compound word “workshop” the “work” part comes before the “shop.” It’s as though the word itself is telling us to put emphasis on the work first. 

Yet, somewhere along the way, workshop went from being a place to being a verb, a thing you did as part of the evaluative process for creative projects. “Let’s workshop these pages and see if we can make them better,” one writer might say to another. Or maybe, “Let’s take these pages to the workshop and see what other people think.”

I suspect this shift might be related to the beginning of one very famous writing workshop which, in the 1930s, established a paradigm for how creative work should be critiqued. The Iowa Writers’ Workshop—and the hundreds of similar programs and courses it inspired—put much more emphasis on the critique aspect than on doing the work itself. 

In this model, the act of writing is a private matter, something we should do in the privacy of our wooded cabin or humble garret. Workshop instead becomes a place you would go to talk about writing, rather than actually do it.

What is worse, this workshop model (which has been in place for almost 100 years) is not inclusive to marginalized writers, or even just writers wanting to create something a little bit outside the norm. You see, according to this workshop model, the writer whose work is on deck must sit quietly while the rest of the group offers their impressions of the work. Some workshops even go so far as to put writers in “the box,” “the booth,” or “the cone of silence.” The reasoning behind this method is supposedly to avoid defensiveness and lend some objectivity to the process. Yet all it does is create a one-sided discussion that excludes the writer whose work it is. This approach can be problematic or even harmful.

I remember, back when I was an itty-bitty baby writer, taking a workshop where we adhered strictly to the box method. It was an introductory fiction workshop with writers of all genres/categories, and at the time, I was working on some middle grade short stories. When it came my turn for critique, the class squandered my entire thirty minutes talking about how the voice of my story was juvenile. Well, no kidding it was juvenile—I was writing for 10-year-old readers. I wasn’t about to sound like Faulkner. If the workshop had allowed for dialogue, if I had been permitted to break out of the booth and tell my classmates what my intended audience was, we probably would have skipped past “juvenile” and actually gotten to a productive discussion. Silencing the writer turns the workshop into nothing more than a talkshop.

I hate to admit it, but until around a year ago, I still operated according to this same problematic paradigm. The truth is, I didn’t realize it could be any other way. This was how I had been taught in every writing class I ever took, including at the traditional MFA I attended. I’m embarrassed to say that even DIY MFA used the “Loving Bubble of Support” method of critique for quite some time. Sure, it might sound more warm and fuzzy than a cone of silence, but it still hearkens to that same tradition of silencing the writer who has the most at stake in the discussion.

Now we do things differently and (in my opinion) so much better. First and foremost, we acknowledge that critique is not a one-sided discussion, but rather a dialogue, and the writer whose work is being workshopped should be the one leading the charge. 

Critiquing someone else’s work when they can’t talk back is easy. Holding a true dialogue and approaching that work with curiosity and compassion is hard work. Hence, the term “workshop.”

In her fabulous book The Antiracist Writing Workshop: How to Decolonize the Creative Classroom, Felicia Rose Chavez talks about many different ways to bring work back into the workshop setting. Having students write longhand journal entries in response to thought questions in class. Creating an environment that engages the senses and gets writers out of their seats. Building a collaborative lexicon, both in terms of common craft vocabulary and also a classroom-inspired collection of reading material. 

All these are ways to put the “work” back in workshop. After all, as Chavez says: “Workshop isn’t workshop if someone doesn’t accidentally trip over a writer.”

At DIY MFA, we also believe that workshops should be about doing the work, about putting words on the page. This is why, as I’ve developed new curriculum over the past year, I have made a deliberate effort to incorporate hands-on activities, like freewriting and roleplay. The goal, of course, has been to nudge writers outside their comfort zones and get them actually writing, rather than simply talking about the work. My hope is that writers who participated in our programs this past year have reaped the benefits of a true workshop.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: Rethinking the Way We Workshop appeared first on DIY MFA.

One morning, I got to watch a destroyer and a littoral combat ship being hauled down to the naval dockyards, from the hotel. Another morning, I opened the curtains to nothing but grey. The marine layer gave us a wall of impenetrable fog.

People write historical fiction to clear the fog of the present by seeing it through windows of the past. Historical fiction promotes the idea the past isn’t that foreign a country, that it isn’t as alien as we might think it is, that time gives distance. Many authors use the past as a creative play space to examine and work out their thoughts about contemporary issues. They also examine how people in the past attempted to resolve—or not—similar issues.

I’ve never held to the old saw that history repeats itself. It merely appears so because human nature and imagination are limited and fallible. Self-interest is the great limiting factor. In other words, always follow the money—solid advice in 17th-century Venice, 18th-century London, and 21st-century Shanghai.

Also, Ovidia Yu, who writes the Su Lin mysteries that take place in WWII Singapore, put it: however terrible the events of the past, people survived it. There was a way to tomorrow. In some senses, historical fiction gives hope.

History and historical fiction are interpretive arts, the latter more so than the former. A historian takes a multitude of primary sources (evidence from the period) to support an argument s/he makes about her/his research issue. Historical fiction authors do the same thing, with one additional burden—write an exciting story with good characters and snappy dialogue. Given how much crime, broadly speaking, exists in history, historical mystery is a natural sub-genre.

All writers of history fight the battle between what the sources say (accuracy) and what romantic fantasies and/or legends exist in people’s heads. How we’ve been taught to think about history—historiography—does get in the way. For a century or more, history was about singular or great white men (and a few spectacular women) doing great things. Authors have been beating that notion back for some time now. Novels featuring women, persons of color, or LGBTQ+ characters can now be easily found.

In crime fiction, however, one thing remains the same—all sleuths must have the agency to solve the crime.

Another aspect of historiography—there’s an old idea that history progresses from point A to point B in a linear fashion (teleology). Well, no, it doesn’t. It’s more like a dance with one step forward, two to the side, one back, and then start the box over. Case in point—people today don’t necessarily want to remember that many PI novels of early 20th century dealt with anti-labor law, unequal divorce laws, industrial espionage, and religious con men and other grifters.

(For that last, see The Dain Curse by Dashiell Hammett and Nightmare Alley by William Lindsay Gresham, twice made into a movie).

How accurate should historical fiction be? I agree with Vanessa Riley, the author of The Queen of Exiles and the Lady Worthing Mysteries: We owe it to our children to be as accurate, as sourced, and as diverse as possible. She was speaking directly to the erasure of Black history (The Queen of Exiles is about the queen of Hayti, who was forced to flee to England when her husband was overthrown as part of the Haitian Revolution, which was a much six-sided civil war as it was a revolution.) The principle, however, holds in any context, even though, in writing, about 90% of research won’t make it into the book.

Women in any century have frequently had power, but usually not public power—that last is, mostly, a manifestation of the 20th century. (Those few spectacular women in the official record, like Elizabeth I of England or Isabella of Castile, might have something to say about that.) Still, most women, even wealthy women, held what’s called “soft” power. 

Richard Koreto, who writes the Alice Roosevelt novels and the Lady Frances Ffolkes mysteries, discussed how the Empress of China, Cixi, saw Alice Roosevelt as an American princess, a woman from a powerful family, and gave her equal status that helped bridge a cultural and diplomatic divide. Men couldn’t deal directly with the Empress, but Alice could and was, therefore, a means to convey American desires to the Chinese.

Overall, the authors had some advice and some warnings for would-be writers of historical mysteries—Historical facts form the skeleton of the story, but the fiction is the flesh, wherein you’re seeking the truth of the moment; The closer to now that you get, the more you have to watch out for the relatives of your historical characters; Get it as right as possible, especially with the real life people and places; Local museums and historical societies are huge resources, so make research librarians your best friends.

Visit, if you can, the places where you’ve set your story because this will enhance both setting and character; Sources of choice—the actual places you’ve set the story (foot research); talk to people (if you can); newspapers and magazines (if they existed), novels of the period; personal records such as letters, diaries, household account books; government records such as trial transcripts, tax rolls, terriers (medieval land surveys), census data, actual legislation; Double-check everything and use multiple sources/perspectives to get the fullest possible picture, for the simple reason that not everything you read is correct. (Every source has its own POV.)

I don’t agree that less is more in the historical detail. A writer needs exactly as much detail as is necessary to make the picture clear and the character real, yet keep the story moving. History is complicated, and it matters, so don’t give it such short shrift as to make it vague, inaccurate, or useless.

Do you need to include a bibliography? For those readers who get interested in the period through your book, it’s a convenient resource for them. Also given the times in which we live, It can also help reduce challenges to your novel, which is another reason not to use too little historical detail.

Reading historical fiction and going to conferences such as Malice Domestic and Bouchercon can help you get over any intimidation or hesitation you might feel about writing your own historical novel. Such conferences can hook you up with people in the field—authors, agents, publishers, and readers—who can be a great help to you. All you gotta do is go and seek and ask.

A former college professor, Karen Whitehurst holds a Ph.D. in British history from the University of Virginia. She currently resides in Maryland with one long-suffering husband, three naughty cats, and over one hundred houseplants. A writer of both historical mystery and SF & F, she is currently at work on a mystery set in 18th century England during the Gordon Riots.

For more information, visit her website.

The post History at Bouchercon 2023 appeared first on DIY MFA.

Where Malice Domestic promotes the traditional mystery with low levels of sex, violence, and gore, Bouchercon covers all types of mysteries. Agatha Christie lovers rub shoulders with Harlan Coben and Christa Faust fans. I go to both because historical fiction authors and readers will attend, but I go to Bouchercon to get my noir fix. And noir can definitely be historical—whether authors set their stories in the past as Scott Von Doviak in Lowdown Road (1974 Texas) or let their protagonists be haunted by the past as Faye Snowden did to Raven Burns in A Killing Fire.

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars/But in ourselves.” 

Cassius, in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, pithily names the source of all problems in noir, less so Gothic and hard-boiled fiction. Perhaps it’s the reason I love those subgenres, even if I don’t, probably can’t, write them.

Let’s discuss noir first. If we’re talking about film, it’s a style. Dark alleys, rain-slicked streets, murky atmosphere, shots down spiral staircases, reflections, shadows, shady characters who come to no good end. In film, think Out of the Past, The Sweet Smell of Success, Odds Against Tomorrow, and L.A. Confidential. That last is neo-noir, but really, was anything shot in daylight?

In fiction, noir has many definitions, and the authors at the panels I attended debated them all. One overrode all others—it always ends badly for everybody. Nobody gets away with it, even if it looks like they have done it. Additionally, in noir, the main character usually is a louse, but generally, she/he/they do bad things to worse people. Finding the truth of the situation is worse than not knowing. Dreamers turn into schemers. This definition goes along with my conception of noir—there’s no easy walk to Easy Street. Both film noir and noir in fiction are full of stupid, corrupted and corruptible, amoral people trying to hit the jackpot, so they can check out of the rat race. It never goes well. Something else I would add—there is no redemption here. History matters, personal history most of all, foreclosing any reclamation.

There was something of a consensus that the cops and PIs are not involved in noir fiction. The authors on the panels agreed noir was crime fiction without them. I beg to differ. Have they read James Ellroy’s La Quartet? Ellroy is completely traditional in this sense—the cops are just the other gang, better armed and funded.

Noir has two close cousins—Gothic and hard-boiled fiction. If I could draw a three-circle Venn diagram, there would be significant overlap amongst the three categories. 

Gothic, which these days means we’re talking about the American South, is all about an intense, emotional experience and buried secrets that corrupt everything and everybody they touch. These secrets are the point of overlap with noir because discovering the truth of these secrets is worse than not knowing the source of the corruption. Above all, people are willing to go to extraordinary, violent lengths to keep these secrets. 

Faye Snowden made an interesting point here—preachers are always corrupt in Southern Gothic. Don’t believe her? Read David Grubb’s Night of the Hunter. I cannot think of a more corrupt example than Harry “Preacher” Powell, unless it’s Elmer Gantry, but Gantry was a mere crook, not the murderous, hateful, but charming charlatan that is Powell. And definitely watch the film—Charles Laughton directed it, using Expressionism to capture the Gothic feel, and Robert Mitchum played Powell to his rotten worst.

For the record, Gothic literature came from mid-eighteenth century England—think The Monk by Gregory Lewis, which has enough crime, religiosity, and overwrought emotion to last a lifetime and which has never been out of print—to New England, where Nathaniel Hawthorne did well with it (The Scarlet Letter) to the MidAtlantic, where Edgar Allen Poe (The Fall of the House of Usher) ran with it—Baltimore’s NFL team is the Ravens for a reason—and then to its natural landing spot, the Deep South. 

Why? Shakespeare wrote that the past is prologue. In Requiem for a Nun, William Faulkner disagreed—“The past is never dead. It’s not even the past.”

The original sin in the South is slavery. Having to grapple with this unresolved past plus things done and left undone in the name of religion, makes Faulkner and Flannery O’Connor easier to understand. Faulkner, who dealt with the horror and costs of slavery underlain by a stern and fervent Protestantism, social transgression, and obsession with death, laid the roadbed for modern Southern Gothic. Flannery O’Conner, herself Catholic and therefore something of a religious outsider in the South, wrestled with secrets, transgression, death, and the grotesque in her work. Religiosity and hypocrisy can combine to corrupt, making the South a fertile setting for terrible crimes, of which murder might be the least. S.A. Cosby and Attica Locke, in addition of Faye Snowden, have brilliantly plowed this ground.

(For more on Faye Snowden’s take on Southern Gothic: https://crimereads.com/southern-gothic-crime-fiction-a-palimpsest-and-primer/ )

If noir’s in the middle, with Gothic on one side, then hard-boiled is on the other side. It overlaps with a cynical narrative voice, a corrupt and vice-ridden world, and a world-weary protagonist who knows the score, but who plows ahead to expose the corruption. The difference? Noir starts with a tepid hope, which is crushed under the bad choices the characters make. Everything gets worse, and nothing works out. In hard-boiled, the protagonist gets out alive, if more shit-stained, more damaged, and the crooks, mostly, end up jailed or dead.

Like Gothic and noir, hard-boiled can be historical or contemporary, but the past is always there to haunt the characters.

It should be no surprise that the PI novel—America’s contribution to crime fiction with Hammett, Chandler, and Macdonald putting murder on the ‘mean streets’—is the backbone of hard-boiled fiction. The private investigator is an archetypal character. She/he/they are always an outsider, always a damaged loner, but the PI knows right from wrong, even when others don’t. Sara Paretsky said at the panel on the enduring popularity of the PI novel: “The individual voice still matters.”

The PI novel has moved a long way from the days of Hammett, Chandler, and Macdonald, whose white male characters, the Continental Op, Philip Marlowe, and Lew Archer, have given way to a broader, more diverse set of PIs, such as Gary Phillip’s Ivan Monk, Sara Paretsky’s V. I. Warshawski, and S. J. Rozan’s Lydia Chin, as well as broader, more diverse crimes and locations. After all, Assassin’s Orbit by John Appel involves Noo Okereke, a sixty-two-year-old PI, investigating a brutal assassination in outer space a couple centuries in the future. While it is more space opera than PI novel, it does show that PIs are far from dead in fiction—the whole point of the Bouchercon panel.

I didn’t just do noir and its cousins at Bouchercon. I went to several history panels, too. I’ll talk about them in the next blog on the biggest mystery convention of the year.

A former college professor, Karen Whitehurst holds a Ph.D. in British history from the University of Virginia. She currently resides in Maryland with one long-suffering husband, three naughty cats, and over one hundred houseplants. A writer of both historical mystery and SF & F, she is currently at work on a mystery set in 18th century England during the Gordon Riots.

For more information, visit her website.

The post Noir and Its Cousins at Bouchercon 2023 appeared first on DIY MFA.

You wouldn’t. And yet that is what you essentially do on social media. With every like, comment, and post, you are slicing yourself into small pieces shared with relative strangers. I’ve found myself doing exactly this. When I get comments days later on posts I responded to, I often can’t recall what I wrote. This makes me feel inauthentic, almost glib. That isn’t like me and I’m sure it’s not like many of you in this community. Not only is this a personality conflict, it fragments your energy and focus.

There are two sides of social media. One is consuming content. The other is posting content. Both actions use energy but in different ways. Following are my tips on how to engage with social media without draining your mental bank account and staying true to your authentic self.

Where your mind goes, your energy goes

When you bounce from topic to topic your energy likewise gets jumbled. In one session on Instagram I liked an author’s book reveal, bookmarked another post, and then went down a rabbit hole of looking up the address for the perfect lobster roll in Maine while responding to another post that wasn’t even someone I follow. By the time I posted this tidbit from memories of my East Coast trip, I’d gotten completely off track of my writing goal for the day.

Another way to think of this is to imagine eating your favorite treats all at the same time. Would you take a bite of chocolate and before swallowing chew a stick of gum while also licking a lollipop? You are asking your brain to do the same thing as its reward center gets pinged with each post, like, or comment.

One strategy I’ve found helpful is to go to the profile page of the person I’m following. Then I can get a better sense of what they are promoting or sharing without having my focus fragmented by random suggested posts. I am focused on one thing at a time so my brain isn’t trying to process one piece of information while looking at another.

I check on updates by grouping topics along a theme such as writing conferences, authors, or cute cat videos. Some platforms let you group topics. With other platforms I flick through to what I want to read or bookmark others to read later.

I’ve also found it helpful to bookmark posts and set a time for reading these posts in their own time. It helps me take in what that one person has to say in an easy-to-digest way. And it helps me engage with that post to craft an authentic response. Which leads me to posting content.

Budget Your Posts Like Film Photos

Have you ever run outside just to take a photo to post online? Me too. I’ve also staged plenty of photos. Some posts have turned out better than others, but they all take time and energy in the staging process. The question to ask yourself is, why am I posting this?

In the days of film cameras we were careful with what we photographed. Printing pictures was expensive, not to mention the cost of film, and there were no previews. People only took photos they were fairly sure would turn out. Waste film documenting your breakfast? I don’t think so.

Budget the energy you put into posts like film photos. Is it worth your time and effort? Also consider the space these photos occupy. Do you want to pay for the storage? And later have to clean out 500 photos that you took just for posts? Really think through what you are posting and why.

One measuring stick for what you post is your target audience. How do they benefit? Posts can give your readers insight into your process. You can share information on related topics, such as gardening tips if your book has plants in the plot. Another possibility is posting on things that fill the same need in their lives as your writing. The key is to have a clear intent when you spend energy this way.

Another way to feel centered while posting is to think back on your origin story. This is something you reflect on for yourself on why you started writing or the reason behind a particular book’s story. Your origin story will help keep you anchored when deciding what to post for your audience.

Be mindful of how you consume content and share with your audience. With balance and moderation you can have a healthy relationship with social media. Just don’t eat an ice cream cone while your mouth is full of frosting!

Ambre Dawn Leffler is a Tai Chi instructor, gardener, and weather geek who writes about vegetables, seasons, communing with nature, and the interconnections of mind/body. She loves trees and cherishes time in their presence. Learn more about her tree time, garden residents, and wellness practices at her website ambredawnleffler.com and seasonal inspiration from her newsletter Sky Earth Water. You can also follow her on Twitter and Instagram.

The post Have Your Cake (And Eat It, Too) With Social Media appeared first on DIY MFA.

I cannot think of a better one for the new or emerging writer (a term I dislike, but one with a certain utility) than Malice Domestic (www.malicedomestic.org). This is the annual convention/conference for readers and writers of traditional mysteries. Agatha Christie is the patron saint here, so no explicit sex, violence, or gore. The context and the consequences of the violence, usually murder, drive the stories here: so, no to James Ellroy and Karin Slaughter, and yes to Martin Edwards, Catriona McPherson, and Misty Simon.

As a convention, it’s fun and low-key. One author described Malice to me as a great, annual family reunion. I go to Malice to hang out with my friends. I go to find new authors and books tho’ I am the hardest sell because I am so eclectic (read mercurial) in my tastes. Also, my reading tastes lean toward the grittier police procedural, which can cross over the line to hard-boiled and noir, more Bouchercon and ThrillerFest. (I’ll discuss them at a later date.) I go to learn new things.

Malice is so worth it—especially the author interviews. This year, it was Ann Cleeves, Vaseem Khan, and Hank Phillippi Ryan. Abir Mukherjee was supposed to be here, but he got quarantined in Britain due to Covid. (Did you think we’d heard the last of the virus?) However, with a little technical help from Zoom, Mukherjee joined Khan for their live-from-Malice podcast of the Red Hot Chili Writers, #99—Britain v America: the Indian Tea Party. (https://www.spreaker.com/show/red-hot-chilli-writers ). Once the tech started working—all hail the Marriot staff!—it was hilarious. No Malice is complete without a  presentation by Lucy Zahray, aka the Poison Lady, who will teach you how to poison your victims accurately. 

Don’t try using strychnine in Britain before 1819. 

This year seven or eight panels dealt with some historical topic. Historical mystery (hist-myst) generally falls in the traditional mystery category. I only went to four of these panels. After all, we can’t do everything at a con, no matter how much we want to do so; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Sometimes, the programmers have to set panels against each other in a time slot. Annoying, but it happens. Still, there’ll be at least one we’ll regret not going to. This year, I couldn’t make the one on the tension between historical fact and historical imagination (set against another historical panel) and one on thrillers wherein the past haunts the present (needed to eat—yeah, don’t forget to do that).

The panels I did make were quite good, so no need for teeth-gnashing. Most of the discussion involved authors discussing who their protagonists are, how and when they do research, and that very real tension between fact and imagination. 

Many of the authors created protagonists from the lower ranks of society, as one author put it, someone without authority or someone who is a social upstart. I can’t say my own protagonist is a social upstart, merely an outsider amongst the aristocracy. The outsider is another way to do it, and there were a few of those, like “the agony aunt.” (Agony in Victorian understanding means a problem, and such columns were published in the newspapers from the late 18th century. Lonely hearts letters, too.)

As to research, most do it before and during the writing process: one described going down the research hole for three months before writing, while another regarded research as nourishment during the writing. Yet, another described doing research after the first draft as “cleaning up after a party.” Overall, the authors did it throughout the process.

Take away: do what works for you, but without going down the research rabbit hole.

One of the moderators said historical novels are a good way to educate about history, particularly social history. Up to a point, I agree. In fiction, we’ve got to tell a good story with good, relatable characters. If there’s truth to be found here, it’s emotional truth. Those two objectives mean that sometimes accuracy’s going by the boards. Now, there will be times when we’ve got to make it up because there’s no documentation or there’s no way anybody could’ve had that experience, such as treating smallpox with red flannel or driving a Roman chariot.

Best question to the panelists in any session—What did you learn the hard way? The lessons gleaned—

• Don’t think it’s going to be too easy. It’s a long process (writing a historical novel).
• No guarantees on getting published. Do it because you love it. Have fun and entertain yourself, and then others. (Sound advice for any type of writing.)
• Don’t be too angry with the copy editor.
• It’s important the writer knows the historical details, but it’s not necessary that the readers know them.

And that wraps up the report from the 35th Annual Malice Domestic. Hope to see you there next year, along with Guest of Honor Sujata Massey, Lifetime Achievement Award winner Elaine Viets, and the toastmaster, Lori Rader-Day.

A former college professor, Karen Whitehurst holds a Ph.D. in British history from the University of Virginia. She currently resides in Maryland with one long-suffering husband, three naughty cats, and over one hundred houseplants. A writer of both historical mystery and SF & F, she is currently at work on a mystery set in 18th century England during the Gordon Riots.

For more information, visit her website.

The post History at Malice Domestic appeared first on DIY MFA.

Today, I want to explore the invaluable benefits of writing retreats and programs specifically tailored for LGBTQ+ writers. These safe and inclusive spaces offer a nurturing environment, supportive community, and opportunities for personal and artistic growth.

Creating Safe and Inclusive Spaces

Writing retreats and programs dedicated to LGBTQ+ writers create safe and inclusive spaces where individuals can freely express themselves without fear of judgment or discrimination. These environments foster a sense of belonging and understanding, empowering writers to delve into personal narratives and explore their identities in their work. 

By eliminating the need for self-censorship, LGBTQ+ writers can fully explore their creativity and push boundaries, resulting in more authentic and impactful storytelling.

Building Supportive Communities

Retreats, communities, and guest writer programs can provide a unique opportunity to connect with like-minded individuals and build supportive communities. 

Sharing experiences, challenges, and triumphs with others who understand and empathize can be immensely empowering and inspiring. These communities offer a network of support that extends beyond the duration of the retreat or program, providing ongoing mentorship, collaboration opportunities, and lasting friendships. 

Connecting with fellow LGBTQ+ writers not only strengthens individual voices but also fosters a sense of solidarity within the wider community.

Nurturing Personal and Artistic Growth

Attending a writing program or retreat offers a nurturing environment that encourages personal and artistic growth. Through workshops, seminars, and one-on-one feedback sessions, participants can hone their writing skills, learn new techniques, and gain valuable insights from experienced mentors and facilitators. 

Additionally, the focused time and space away from daily distractions allow writers to delve deeper into their craft, exploring new genres, experimenting with different styles, and pushing their creative boundaries.

Amplifying LGBTQ+ Voices

Representation matters. Writing retreats and programs for LGBTQ+ writers play a vital role in amplifying underrepresented voices and diverse narratives. 

By providing a platform specifically designed for LGBTQ+ writers, these initiatives enable stories and perspectives that are often marginalized or overlooked to reach a wider audience. 

The power of storytelling lies not only in its ability to entertain but also to educate, challenge stereotypes, and foster empathy. By supporting and encouraging LGBTQ+ writers, we can contribute to a more inclusive literary landscape.

Overcoming Challenges and Finding Validation

LGBTQ+ writers often face unique challenges in the literary world, including heteronormative expectations, the need to educate readers on LGBTQ+ issues, and the pressure to conform to mainstream narratives. 

In an age of increasing calls for censorship and book bans, LGBTQ+ programs and communities help writers navigate challenges by offering a platform where their voices are not only accepted but celebrated. 

The validation and affirmation received within these spaces can be transformative, instilling confidence, resilience, and a sense of pride in one’s identity and work.

Programs to Consider

Retreats and programs tailored for LGBTQ+ writers provide invaluable opportunities for personal and artistic growth, fostering a sense of belonging, support, and validation. 

By creating safe and inclusive spaces, these initiatives amplify the voices of LGBTQ+ writers, empowering them to tell their stories authentically and contribute to a more diverse and inclusive literary landscape. As we continue to strive for equality and representation, it is crucial to recognize and support the unique contributions of LGBTQ+ writers. 

Here are some LGBTQ+ programs to consider and perhaps even apply for if you’re an LGBTQ+ writer in search of support and community.

Lambda Literary’s Writing Retreat

The Writer’s Retreat for Emerging LGBTQ Voices has been in service since 2007. It is the nation’s premier LGBTQ writing residency. It is the only multi-genre writing residency devoted exclusively to emerging LGBTQ+ writers.

The Loft’s Writer’s Workshop

This program has moved online, offering much more opportunity for LGBTQ+ writers from all around the country. They provide an excellent resources section as well, so writers have options as to how involved or independent they want to be.

Contests

There are also some amazing writing contests hosted specifically for LGBTQ+ writers. 

Examples include those hosted by Dunlop (the PFD YA Queer Fiction prize and the PFD Adult Queer Fiction Prize), Saints and Sinners (short story and poetry contests), Queer Sci-Fi, Lambda Literary (Jeanne Cordova Prize for Lesbian/Queer Nonfiction; J. Michael Samuel Prize for Emerging Writers Over 50; and the Judith A. Markowitz Award for Exceptional New LGBTQ Writers, just to name a few!), and the Lumiere Review Writing Contest (poetry and short stories).

DIY MFA

Join us here at DIY MFA! While this community is open to all writers in all genres, it is an inclusive group where you will find support from ally and LGBTQ-identifying writers as well. Build your own community within the community!

Adam W. Burgess is an English Professor at College of Southern Nevada. He has a Ph.D. from Northern Illinois University and is pursuing a post-doc writing certificate at the University of California, Berkeley. He loves engaging in all topics related to LGBTQ literature and craft. You can find Adam on his website or follow him on Twitter.

The post Nurturing Creativity and Amplifying Voices with LGBTQ+ Writers’ Contests and Programs appeared first on DIY MFA.

As defined by the World Health Organization, wellness is not an absence of illness. It is a practice that invests in the well-being of your body, mind, and spirit. There is an entire industry that wants you to believe you need large investments of time and money to achieve this goal.

Writer wellness is not expensive, time-consuming, or possible only with special equipment. You do not need a meditation room with incense and tufted cushions. You only need ten minutes. If you don’t have ten minutes, you can still nurture your body and mind with just ten breaths. Daily practice is what counts. Consistency is more important than length of time. And with a few small exercises you can care for your spirit.

I used to go to a yoga studio three or four times a week. It was something I needed and was given space for. I don’t have the same kind of time now. I have to find ten minutes wherever I am, whether it’s in my office, at a conference, or in the short time to myself while brewing coffee in the morning.

Writer wellness encompasses body, mind, and spirit

Body

Taking care of your eyes is very important. Long hours staring at the screen not only fatigue the muscles around your eyes but are stressful to your brain. Blue screen time disrupts your circadian rhythm, leading to health issues. Spend a few moments looking away from the computer screen. Boost your relaxation by focusing on something green, such as the plant in your writing space or a tree outside.

Likewise, it is counterproductive to sit for long sessions without stretching. The more tense your muscles become, the less oxygen circulates to your brain. Muscle spasms and compressed spines are results of sitting too long in a chair. Equally important is opening up circulation to your wrists so you can keep typing for years to come. Stretching can be as simple as wiggling your toes or standing and extending your arms above your head.

Mind

Your brain can only process so much information in an hour. Take breaks and give your brain a rest, ideally ten minutes every hour. Our brains love to problem solve, so focusing on something else lets your subconscious mind do the work. This is why I recommend listening to birdsong or going for a walk. Studies show that spending time in nature boosts creativity.

The other aspect to taking care of the body is mindful breathing. This simply means focusing on your breathing for a set amount of time. Where your mind goes, your energy goes. When your mind is scattered across several tasks, your energy is equally scattered. Taking time to focus only on breathing brings energy back to yourself. It also relaxes the parasympathetic nervous system, allowing your brain to hum in the background and come up with creative solutions.

To learn a ten-second breathing meditation click here. I use this to focus in the morning and between projects to shift my creative mindset.

Spirit

Creativity is a deeply personal act. Writers make themselves vulnerable when putting their work out there. In your writing journey there will be critical reviews, critiques that may not always be helpful, and people who will put roadblocks in your path. This is why taking care of your spirit is equally important as taking care of your body and mind. Setting boundaries to ward off energy vampires and taking steps to protect the inner bark of your creative tree are key to keeping things positive.

Be a champion of your own well-being with these simple practices

Writing doesn’t come with a coach, trainer, or physiotherapist. But you can be a champion of your own well-being with these simple practices. Choose one thing and try it for a few weeks. When it becomes routine add another technique. You will feel a subtle but powerful change in your approach to writing.

These practices for body, mind, and spirit all create steps on the path to a happy and healthy writing life.

Ambre Dawn Leffler is a Tai Chi instructor, gardener, and weather geek who writes about vegetables, seasons, communing with nature, and the interconnections of mind/body. She loves trees and cherishes time in their presence. Learn more with her free Wellness Kit for Writers and on her website ambredawnleffler.com. You can also follow her on Instagram.

The post Create a Happy and Healthy Writing Life appeared first on DIY MFA.